


Christmas in the Twenty-First Century

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: A Little Drunkenness, Advent Calendar, Candy Canes, Canon Compliant, Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Displays, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Christmas Presents, Christmas TV/Movies, Christmas Tree, Decorating the Tree, Eggnog, F/M, Fascination, Formalwear, Friendship, Gen, Gift Giving, Hangover, Ichabod Crane vs. Modern Christmas, Ichabod Crane vs. the 21st Century, Impromptu Photo Shoots, Mistletoe, Non-Consensual Kissing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Pretty mental pictures, Santa Hat, Snow, Snow Globes, Snowball Fight, Stockings, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Traditions, Tuxedos, Visiting Santa Claus, Wrapping Presents, and a happy New Year!, christmas day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 7,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2699876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod Crane and twenty-first century Christmas.</p><hr/><p>Follow Ichabod's adventures in a Sleepy Hollow style advent calendar! One drabble a day until Christmas, unrelated oneshots with lots of Christmasy fluff!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. December 1st

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my latest project! I actually wrote this whole thing in November, so the chapters are ready to be posted every day until Christmas~ I really have nothing else to say about this, it's an advent, it's Crane and Christmas, implied friendship that you can make into Ichabbie if you want, and lots of fluff.
> 
> Chapters will vary between short and longer; it's one of those things where each day can't be a whole page.
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!

1.

"Almost Christmas, Crane," Jenny said. "Have you gotten a gift for Abbie yet?"

Ichabod raised his head. "I have not, but I do, in fact, have an idea in mind..." he trailed off at the look on her face.

She was beaming. Looking a little smug in fact, smiling like she was in on a secret that Ichabod didn't know.

"... Yes?" he asked slowly.

Jenny shrugged, but the look on her face didn't dissipate. "Nothing. I was just asking. What are you getting her?" she asked, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the table.

Ichabod abandoned his book, glancing around the archives. "... Isn't it supposed to be a secret?" he asked, leaning closer to her.

Jenny grinned. "Yeah, but only to the person you're getting it for. You can tell me what you're getting for her, but you can't tell me what you're getting me. Unless you want to," she added.

Ichabod thought it would be rude to admit that he had not yet thought of a gift for Miss Jenny. "How do I know that you won't go and tell you sister as soon as you know?"

"Ouch, Crane, don't you trust me?"

"Yes," Ichabod replied immediately. "You are the Lieutenant's sister and a valuable ally in our fight against Moloch. You are a most cherished friend."

Jenny looked surprised. "Wow, is this sweet talk from tall, dark, and British my Christmas gift?" she said sarcastically.

Ichabod tilted his head slightly.

"Nevermind." Jenny held up her hands. "Seriously, though, what are you getting her? Is it something fancy? Jewelry?"

Ichabod opened his mouth to respond, only to jump when the door swung open and Abbie strode in.

"Damn," Jenny muttered, leaning back.

Abbie raised her eyebrows. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Ichabod straightened up. "Not at all," he said, picking up his book again. "We were simply discussing-"

"Pizza!" Jenny interrupted.

Ichabod and the Lieutenant both looked at her.

"I thought we'd order a pizza for dinner. Since we're still working this case."

Ichabod raised an eyebrow, hoping that the skepticism on his face wasn't wholly obvious. He turned back to Abbie and smiled. "Yes. I would enjoy a pizza as well."

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever." She grabbed her phone off the desk. "You know I don't believe either of you. What kind of pizza do we want?"

Ichabod leaned back in his chair and idly watched Abbie and Jenny argue over the choice of pizza. He still wasn't quite sure why Jenny had given him that look when she'd asked about buying her sister a present.

 


	2. December 2nd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just all so awe-inspiring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a disappointing mid-season finale, here's some Christmas fluff.

"You're staring, Crane."

Ichabod looked up from the display of the miniature village displayed at the local store. "Sorry," he said quickly, turning away from the small acrylic figures that were skating on a resin simulated lake, or the fuzzy trees completed with false snow. "I must admit a certain fascination," he said. "They're very quaint, these shrunken displays."

Abbie smiled absently, joining him. "Uh huh." She pressed a button on the wheel with baskets - Ichabod believed that it was called a ‘ferris wheel’ - and Ichabod was all the more startled when the display jerked to life. It light up in colours of red and green as the wheel spun around slowly, playing a song that he had come to learn was called ‘Jingle Bells’.

"This is most entertaining," he said, leaning closer to the turning wheel. "Do the other displays move as well?" he asked, turning his head to look up at Abigail.

She nodded.

Ichabod felt bliss swell up in his chest as he straightened up, following her to the next interactive, as it were, display. This one was an animated display of the small people called elves working on toys in a workshop. With the press of a button, they sprang to life, as though they were sawing away at a board of wood or turning a dial on the ‘Present Packager 2014’.

It was silly, he knew, but he was charmed.

"Didn't you see all this stuff last year?"

Ichabod glanced towards her. "I did. However, it was merely two months after my arrival in this century. Grasping something as garish as your common Christmas was beyond my reach." He gently touched the bauble on the elf's hat.

"Not so garish now, is it?" Abbie said, her eyes twinkling with laughter.

Ichabod shook his head. "Oh, no, I still stand by that it is garish, but I've now come to realise that that is it's charm."

Abbie laughed, but nodded. "Uh huh. Did you see those giant inflatable snow globes?"

Ichabod looked up again.

"The ones that you put outside, about six feet tall, and it looks like it's snowing on the inside?"

Ichabod didn't know what a snow globe was, but he didn't say so. The idea of something being six foot tall, Christmas-related, with snow, was more than enough to pique his interest. "I haven't yet had the pleasure."

"Come on, I'll show you. We totally aren't going to get anything done until you've gawked at everything."

 


	3. December 3rd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small worlds with fake snow.

Snow globes were amazing.

Not only was he amazed by the sheer size of the giant inflatable ones that were to be put in the yard for decoration, if space allowed, there were indoor, much smaller alternatives. These were not to be inflated, but came in one piece, with a miniature city or setting under a glass or plastic dome. There was liquid inside, with glitter or flakes, so that when shaken, it would appear as though the miniature city was being snowed upon.

Ichabod thought that he must have been a little too transparent the day that he saw the small snow globes for the first time. Abbie had bought him one.

It was a miniature version of Sleepy Hollow, and Ichabod could make it snow when he wished. It sat on his mantle and he eyed it fondly every time he passed by.

 


	4. December 4th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nog of eggs?

"What's eggnog?"

"A drink."

Ichabod folded the grocery flyer back, looking at Abbie over it. "What kind of drink?"

Abbie didn't look up. "It's a drink, Crane. The kind you, you know, _drink_."

"I realise that, _Lieutenant_ ," he retorted. "I'm inquiring on the state of it. Is it similar to coffee?"

"What?" Now Abbie looked up. "No. It's, like, raw eggs and milk, or something, I don't know. Sometimes it's got booze in it." She looked back at her papers.

" _Raw_ eggs?" Ichabod said. "Isn't that dangerous? It's said that raw eggs can contain bacteria that cause foodborne illness, is it not?"

"Yeah, sure."

Ichabod raised his eyebrows. "And people still willingly consume it, with alcohol nonetheless?"

"What?" Abbie asked distractedly. "Yeah, of course they do. It's good."

"You've ingested some of this beverage, then. Did you acquire sudden illness after drinking it?" Ichabod asked.

"No, seriously, Crane." Abbie huffed, looking up at him again. No longer was there endless patience in her eyes, but irritation and tiredness. "Look, let me get this report done and then I'll answer all your questions. I'll even buy you some. Okay?"

Ichabod nodded. "Very well." He flipped the flyer back up, returning his gaze to the seasonal items section again. "It seems a dangerous venture, raw eggs."

Abbie sighed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know this isn't the last time that this is going to come up.


	5. December 5th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peppermint walking sticks.

Ichabod had to do a double take when Abbie walked into the cabin. For a moment, he thought that she was holding a cigarette in between her teeth - a habit of which she had not had previously, he knew positively - but soon realised that it was not a cigarette, but a piece of candy.

"Lieutenant," he ventured. "Might I ask what kind of sweet that is? I've never seen it before now."

"Huh? Oh, mini candy cane." She brandished it absently.

It was red and white striped, only about the length of his middle finger, with a curved hook on one end. The latter part was the part that Abigail had had in her mouth, and it was completely white and melting down from the contact with saliva.

"Must your world demand on making everything smaller?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Hey, we excel where it counts. Besides, it's not small, it's fun-sized."

Ichabod tilted his head.

Abbie waved his confusion away. "Never-mind, you've never heard the joke. Here, have one, I grabbed a few." She dropped the small candy canes onto the table.

Ichabod picked up one of them gingerly. "What does it taste like?" he asked, carefully tearing the package open.

"It's peppermint, Crane. Like a peppermint stick, but with a hook. It looks like a cane, that people walk with? That's why it's called a candy cane."

"Oh! Peppermint." He was familiar with peppermint and very fond of it as a blend of tea, even though the peppermint he was familiar with came in leaves and not discs or canes. Abbie had once told him it had something to do with peppermint oil _from_ those leaves. "Fantastic." He tasted it and was pleased to report that it tasted very much like the peppermint he had known. Sweeter, perhaps, but refreshing nonetheless. "These are seasonal as well?"

"Yep. The normal sized ones, you hang them on... _oh_. We have to get you a tree, Crane."

Ichabod pulled the candy candy from his mouth. "A tree? There's numerous trees outside-"

Abbie shook her head, cutting him off. "We're getting you a bona fide Christmas one. Remind me this weekend, okay?"

 


	6. December 6th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special tree.

Ichabod breathed in the heavy, rich tone that was pine. If he closed his eyes, he could visualise that he was in the middle of a forest. Instead, he was in the middle of his cabin, and Abbie had instructed him on how to set the tree up in his home. A Christmas tree.

Not only did he love the smell, he loved the way it looked nestled into the corner.

Abbie said he would like it better all decorated.

Ichabod wasn't sure how that was possible.

He breathed in deeply again over his steaming cup of tea and the crackle of firewood in the hearth. He opened his eyes and took a drink of earl grey, sighing softly.

 


	7. December 7th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decorating with the Mills Sisters...

"Come on, Abbie, stop being so picky."

"Hey, it's my house, I'll be picky if I want to." Abbie set aside one of the ornaments she was looking at. "I don't have room for all of these on the tree. I keep collecting them on the after-Christmas sales..."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "How about the skiing penguin? I think it'll offset nicely to the reindeer with lights tangled in its antlers."

Ichabod's head fell a few degrees to the right. He was awaiting when the Mills sisters would be finished decorating Abbie's tree, for she had promised to let him borrow whatever ornaments she didn't use in her own display. Also, he was lacking in practical experience of decorating for Christmas, so he was here to watch.

He had to admit, he didn't understand why a penguin would be skiing, or why it was important enough to put as a bauble on the tree for Christmas, but idiosyncrasy was part of this century's charm. He had learned that quite quickly.

"Fine, give it here." Abbie took the penguin and stood up to find a place for it on the tree.

The Lieutenant's home smelled similar to his own. It was because of the tree. They both had live ones.

And there were fake ones! Why would anybody desire something made from _plastic_ or acrylic or some other such thing when there was a real tree to be had? Abbie had said something about allergies, the mess, and nature. Ichabod understood all three, the latter especially, but... once a year, with trees that were planted specifically _for_ that time of year, he was led to believe. Why would anyone desire to pass up on an opportunity that was made wholly for them?

Abbie shared his sentiments. She had told him that she bought a live tree every year, even if she did nothing else in the way of celebrating.

Unlike with the cabin, Abbie's house did _not_ smell of burning firewood, but instead of cinnamon. Scented pine cones, he had learned, were also seasonal. They, too, produced a very lovely scent.

"Hey." Jenny's voice drew Ichabod out of his reverie. "Look!" She pulled out something fuzzy, and red, trimmed in white, and proceeded to reach over and flop it on Abbie's head. "Why is a hat in your ornament box?"

Abbie scowled, pushing the white trim up from over her eyes. "I don't know. It just got thrown in there last year."

Ichabod felt his lips twitch up towards a smile at Miss Mill's sullen look. He recognised the thing now as a hat, one most commonly worn by ‘Santa Claus’. They were increasingly popular at this time of year, in all colors and varieties.

"Crane likes it!" Jenny announced.

Ichabod tried to smooth his expression, but found that his quote-unquote poker face came much more slowly looking into the face of a Lieutenant with a too-large hat draping over her head.

"Oh, yeah, laugh it up," Abbie retorted, pulling the hat off. "Here, you put it on and see how ridiculous you look."

He caught the hat when she tossed it to him, shrugging. "Very well." He would try mostly anything, depending on who was watching, naturally; he shuddered to think of what Mr Hawley would do if he caught him with such an item on his head. With the Mills sisters, however, he was content to give into their little tradition.

"Well?" he asked, straightening the hat. He turned his head too fast; the white... was this the proper time for the term ‘pom-pom’? hitting him in the face. "It's... quite amusing," he added, pushing it away. "I suppose."

Jenny grinned. "Damn. He's kind of cute."

Abbie laughed, shaking her head. "He looks like a festive Jesus."

"Well, reason for the season, after all."

Ichabod raised an eyebrow. "I'll thank you for the compliment?"

"Let's take a picture," Jenny said, grabbing Abbie's phone off the table. "Or, at least you two. I can caption it ‘Merry Christmas from the world's only hope!’ or something and slap it on a Christmas card."

"Jenny," Abbie started.

"Just get in front of the tree, Crane. We're starting an album. A Witness album. Then you two can look back at all the crap you went through _after_ you stop Moloch. Including Christmas."

Ichabod shared a look with Abbie. "That is actually not a bad idea," he said shortly.

Abbie sighed. " _If_ we even live past the End of Days," she muttered.

"Hey!" Jenny retorted. "Christmas! Time for cheer!"

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Get over here, Crane."

So it was that the first photo in their album would be him and her standing in front of a half decorated Christmas tree, him with a Santa Claus hat and her arm around his waist because _"Your shoulders are too freaking tall, Crane!"_

... Ichabod made Jenny swear not to post it to the small, chirping blue bird, the tumbler, or let anyone read it on her Face.

 


	8. December 8th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return of the nog of eggs.
> 
> Pt 2

"This is tasty."

"Uh huh... Wait a second... Crane, how much of that have you had to drink?"

"Umm. I'm not really sure. You said that there was little chance of harm from drinking the raw eggs!"

"Damn it, I also told you there's booze in it! Give me that."

"No."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"... No...?"

" _Crane_."

"But it's good!"

"Give me the damn mug before you break something!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alternately known as Why Abbie Shouldn't Make Alcoholic Eggnog)


	9. December 9th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The destruction of the nog of eggs
> 
> Pt 3 (finale)

"Must they sing so loudly?" Ichabod pressed his face into the couch cushion, a little ashamed at his behaviour but the throbbing headache beneath his temples more or less negated it.

Abbie sighed. "They're carolers, Crane, that's what they do. If you hadn't gotten drunk and passed out on my sofa, you would be home, sleeping, and without carolers."

Ichabod sighed heavily. His stomach churned and he tried not to think about the impromptu way he had ended up sleeping on Abbie's couch, or how much eggnog he had consumed the night prior. "... I do not like these carolers. Or eggnog," he added, raising his head and squinting in the light. "I definitely do not like your eggnog," he said, planning to point at her as though delivering a lecture, but his hand fell halfway and flopped limply over the side of the sofa. He tried not to groan. "Can't I have some more of that... aspirin?"

"Not unless you want to overdose on that, too."

He thought he might have groaned then - just a tiny bit- but it was lost to the chorus of Christmas music of people singing off-key outside of Abigail's house.

Ichabod thought he might throw up.

 


	10. December 10th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decorating at the Crane cabin.

"You've got a mess," Abbie commented, raising her eyebrows at the tangled array of lights pooled on his floor.

Ichabod cringed internally. "Forgive me, but I... got rather caught up," he muttered. "They seemed to be tangled from the start."

Abbie shrugged. "Yeah, they do that. Come on, let's get at it."

Untangling the lights took an inordinate amount of time, and ended with one bulb broken beneath Abbie's heeled boots, but once they were draped over the tree, Ichabod was surprised and then thrilled to see that the rest of them worked.

They twinkled in an array of colours, ranging from soft white to the brightest green. There was apple red, cerulean blue, lilac purple, and yellow as bright as the sunshine. It was overwhelming at first, but then, like with the rest of the season's trinkets, Ichabod felt... well, home.

He felt at home in a home that did not belong to him. It was a marvel, truly.

"You have an awful look on your face."

Ichabod frowned, tearing his gaze away from the lit-up tree to look at Abbie. "I can assure you that I very much enjoy-"

" _Awe-ful_ ," Abbie interrupted, smiling slightly. "Full of awe."

Ichabod closed his mouth and smiled. "Yes," he agreed, and looked back at the tree.

 


	11. December 11th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missile toes, pt 1

Jenny hung up mistletoe in Abbie's house.

Ichabod got caught under it.

When Jenny leaned over and kissed him directly on the lips, Ichabod thought he was either going to die by heart attack or die of embarrassment.

It was only after that that Jenny, laughing all the while, explained what the mistletoe was for.

 


	12. December 12th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Christmas-time keeps running through my skull; will it let me be, I cannot tell.”

He had sunken to such lows as to hum musical pieces that were created in this century. There were countless, _countless_ songs that instructed for listeners to do improper things with their behinds or even songs putting voice towards what a lover had done to betray their intended by sleeping with some ‘ho’ down the street.

(No, that type of ‘ho’ was not the type of ‘ho’ that went into ‘ho ho ho’, incidentally.)

Thankfully, Ichabod hadn’t sunk quite _that_ low. For him to even _think_ about what the lyrics meant in songs where they... No, never-mind. He shuddered to think. Most improper. No, he was merely humming Christmas songs. Mostly when he was bored, or doing menial tasks like the washing up, when he didn’t catch himself quickly enough as the tune started to play in his head.

Damned catchy tunes! He was growing weary of bells that jingled, and yet, he knew all the words by heart now.

"Listen to you, Crane," Abbie said, and Ichabod jumped when he realised that he'd been humming again, whilst reading in the archives nonetheless.

"My apologies," he said quickly. "These songs seem to be stuck in my head as of late."

Abbie laughed. "Welcome to Christmas time. You'll be singing those songs halfway into February."

"I should hope not!" Ichabod retorted. "They are quickly losing their beauty by being entirely over-commercialised."

"Mid-February," Abbie repeated confidently.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I also don't own _The Nightmare Before Christmas_.)


	13. December 13th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas classics, Pt 1

"Let me guess: quaint."

Ichabod beamed. "A joyous if not confounding display of these ‘rain deer’. With a moral, nonetheless."

"Just because someone has a bright red nose doesn't mean they're inferior," Abbie said cheerfully, but Ichabod could tell that she was mocking him at least slightly.

"Maybe not so literal, Lieutenant, but yes, all the same," he replied, all the same.

Abbie laughed at him and reached for the remote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Nope, I don't own _Rudolph_ , either!)


	14. December 14th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Father Christmas!

"Crane, stop staring."

...

" _Crane!_ "

"Sorry. Yes?"

"Stop staring."

"But..."

"No."

"It's Santa Claus!"

"It's a fake."

"What?"

"It's a normal guy, dressed up in a suit and fake beard, and there's a bunch of little kids and you're staring in their direction with a weird look on your face. Pick up your feet and let's move."

"... Very well..."

 


	15. December 15th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old tradition, new tradition.

Ichabod regarded the stocking on his fireplace with concentration. It was the one that Miss Mills had gotten him the year prior, where he had been both charmed and confusion by the present. Since then, he had learned that small presents or candies were meant to be put in the stockings, although generally it was just something for the younger children.

What was more, it was a tradition amongst _families_. When the Lieutenant had said it was tradition, everyone did not go out, buy a stocking, and embroider it for a perfect stranger. It was, as Ichabod had realised, more or less a family venture.

Which, he thought, made it all the more special. That piece of oversized hosiery had been given to him by the Lieutenant who had, at that point, only known him for two months. He was still as charmed as he had been firsthand, but there was a warm glow in the centre of his chest this year that grown over the past year. He knew the meaning. He was grateful for such a thing to hang up in his home. He was grateful to have the Lieutenant in his life, not only because of the Apocalypse, but for companionship as well.

He reached for his phone. He thought he might have her out for dinner tonight.

 


	16. December 16th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crane's present planning.

Ichabod would have had to admit that he hadn't thought about _how_ he was going to buy Christmas presents this year.

He had ignored Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday of the prior month, not understanding any of it. Was Black Friday a segregated holiday? He had thought the world had bypassed that. Were department stores closed on Saturday? And what did ‘cyber’ even _mean_?

But even that wasn't the problem. The problem would have to be, more or less, that he had no money. His groceries came from Abbie; she gave him a certain budget. But Ichabod had found a way around that, too. He purposefully cut back on spending at the grocery or department store in order to save up money for Christmas.

He went hungry a few nights, but he was determined to pay Abbie back for her unending kindness in the past year.

 


	17. December 17th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas classics, Pt 2

"..."

"Crane?"

Ichabod drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. The tears that had been stubbornly blurring his vision and clinging to his eyelashes fell. "I require a moment," he said thinly.

He sat on the edge of the sofa, elbows propped up on his knees. He folded his hands together and pressed his knuckles against his forehead, staring at the floor. Get it together, Ichabod.

He sat up slightly and reached for the tissues on the table. Well put to use, those. He blew his nose and scrubbed at his eyes, sitting up straight.

"Okay?"

Ichabod nodded. "... This is a Christmas movie." He finally looked over at Abbie. She wasn't crying, but her eyes seemed teary nonetheless.

"Yeah."

"How is it to bring joy to families when it depicts that poor child's mother dying from terminal illness?" he demanded, but even as he said it, the tears swam back into his vision. He pointedly closed his eyes and willed them away.

"It's not about Christmas joy, it's about... you know... cherishing what we have. Loving those that love us, enjoying every moment we get to share."

Ichabod swallowed thickly.

"The ideals we should be living by, being Witnesses and all," Abbie muttered.

"Please," Ichabod interrupted, unaware of his intent to interrupt until after he had done so, "let us not dwell on that at this moment. I fear I may indeed go into hysterics if we were to discuss what may befall one another."

Abbie shook her head. "Trust me, I'm trying not to. It's just... Some of these movies this time of year..." She sighed. "You want a cup of tea or something? I can make it."

"Thank you." Ichabod pressed his fingers against his eyes and tried not to imagine that one day, it very well may be himself rushing to a dying Abbie's bedside.

He didn't think he'd watch a Christmas movie again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I do not own anything referenced, and I still do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thank you for continuing to stick with this!)


	18. December 18th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missile toes, Pt 2

Jenny moved the mistletoe to the archives.

Ichabod got caught under it again. With Abbie.

Heart hammering in his chest far too wildly for a grown man, Ichabod stared down at Abbie with some trepidation. She looked very much the same way that he felt. Flustered, but Abbie held more irritation, and if looks could kill, Jenny, laughing from the side, would be dead already.

Ichabod steeled himself and leaned down, pressing his lips gently against her cheek.

Abbie started and her hand snapped up, snagging a fistful of his shirt. Ichabod cringed as he pulled away, awaiting the Lieutenant's wrath for his actions. He understood the mistletoe, but to him, it didn't make it any less invasive.

Abbie stared up at him before blinking quickly. "Oh!" She let go of his shirt. "Sorry! Instincts."

Ichabod managed a weak smile, his ears burning. "Not a problem."

She looked up at him for a moment longer before huffing and turning away. She strode away from the mistletoe with purpose. "Now can we cut the childish crap and get on with the case?"

Jennifer was still chuckling to herself. "You cheated," she pointed out, looking at Ichabod. "On the cheek, really?"

"I didn't know there were requirements." He didn't and, honestly, even if there were, he wouldn't have infringed upon Miss Mill's virtue in such a way to begin with.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But you read the subtext. Read it loud and clear.


	19. December 19th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Christmas!

Ichabod was thoroughly pleased with the day's events. He had, in his pocket, a small box tucked away neatly and, in the shopping bag in his hand, the other part of the Lieutenant's present for this year.

It may have cost him an arm and a leg (a common phrase for the prices of things these days!), but he was, overall, happy. He couldn't wait until Christmas.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last few chapters are definitely going to be a bit longer. I promise.


	20. December 20th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow.

Snow was one of the most fantastic things that Ichabod had ever seen in his life. He had seen his share of it before his death in the war, but the weather then was wholly different to the weather now. Abbie cited climate change and/or global warming, depending on the weather.

"So, I was thinking, we could have dinner at your place, Abbie," Miss Jenny was saying, "I'm going to make a ham and some sort of pie, maybe pumpkin-"

"I've _had_ your pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, it was horrible. Why don't you just go out and buy a pie?" Abbie replied.

Ichabod glanced away from the Mills sisters walking ahead of him. Snow had been falling for the better part of three hours now, and he had scarcely been away to look away. There were a few inches on the ground already, but it was a pleasant snow. It wasn't a white-out, as the meaty-ologists on the television sometimes talked about, but it was just a beautiful, breathtaking scene.

Ichabod, in a childish sense of abandon, longed to go out and have a romp through it.

Jenny, as it were, also seemed to possess a childish sense of abandon.

Something round and heavy hit Ichabod square in the chest, his breath escaping him in a low rush. He looked in surprise at the snow clinging to his coat, from the snowball that had just exploded there. He looked up at Abbie and Jenny. Jenny was brushing her gloves off and Abbie was struggling not to laugh.

"Don't space out, Crane!" Jenny demanded. "We're trying to figure out dinner. You're not skipping out on this one like you did Thanksgiving."

Ichabod held up his gloved hands. "I am fully prepared to join in your festive celebration. I am bringing a dish of my own, in fact."

"Oh yeah?" Jenny raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"Plum pudding," Ichabod said proudly. That was one thing that he knew, one thing that he was familiar with for the holidays. It was a little slice of his own home in this world, and he was going to take advantage of that.

"Oh. I've never had it, but it sounds disgusting."

"It is not!" Ichabod said quickly. How affronting! To judge a food merely by the name! The name itself was a collection of both ‘plum’ and ‘pudding’, so how could one not expect to enjoy the dish itself?

Jenny just shrugged.

Abbie chuckled and fell back into step next to Ichabod. "Don't worry, Crane. I won't let her ruin everything. I'm making stuff, too."

Ichabod looked down at her. She had snowflakes in her hair, product of absolutely refusing to wear a hat (Ichabod didn't wear one, either). He resisted against brushing them away, eggshell white against raven black; they were distracting. _All_ of the snow was distracting to him.

"What are you bringing to the party?" he asked instead.

"Hm, corn casserole, green beans, cranberry cookies... oh." Abbie grinned, holding up a finger. "Just a sec." She scooped a handful of snow off of a nearby bench and balled it up, pelting it at her sister's back moments later. It landed squarely. Ichabod was impressed.

"Hey!" Jenny retorted, spinning around. "Oh, it's _on_ now, sister." She reached for a handful of snow.

Ichabod ended up getting hit with more snowballs than he thought should have been intended for him.

 


	21. December 21st

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carriage rides.

"Crane."

"Hm?"

"Your inner impropriety is showing."

Ichabod blinked and straightened up, trying to fight the way that his lips were demanding to lift up at the corners. "Right. My apologies."

Abbie laughed, nudging his shoulder. "You're fine."

He had found out about these horse-drawn carriage rides only this morning. He had no- actually, he did have a little shame in nearly begging the Lieutenant to take him to one, telling her that she did not have to join him once there if she did not desire. It was something like normalcy to him, horses. He _missed_ horses. The purr and roar of the automobiles of this century still frightened the part of him that had taken to horse and carriage, or the back of the horse himself. He could drive now, although he still did not have a license. But the idea of a carriage ride had been too good a chance to miss, so he had asked a favour this time, instead of making a suggestion.

It was wonderful. It wasn't exactly how he remembered, but the feel of the wind through his hair and the bite of the chilled air through his coat and on his cheeks took him back of urging his horse through the wild landscape, a mission for the General under his belt and his heart happy with the knowledge that his life would be waiting for him when he returned.

"This was most inspiring, Lieutenant. I must thank you immensely for bringing me here today," he said, offering her a hand to help her from the carriage.

"Not a problem, Crane. Free carriage ride. You could ask for worse things."

"Nonetheless, I thank you," he said, and, without preamble, kissed the back of Miss Mill's hand, black fuzzy gloves and all.

Abbie chuckled, although it sounded nervous now. "Come on, Crane, people are staring," she muttered, and when Ichabod beamed at her, he noticed she was blushing. "It's just a freaking carriage ride."

Ichabod shook his head. "I shall treasure this moment for months, Lieutenant," he vowed, because he was indeed positive that he would.

 


	22. December 22nd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping presents is not as easy as it looks.

He was horrible at wrapping gifts.

It probably didn't help that he was trying to wrap such a small box, but he was... he was really having trouble. He definitely couldn't call Miss Mills to ask for her help, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to call Miss Jenny to help him, either. Not only would she take humour at his shortcomings, she would also learn the mystery of Abigail's gifts.

No, it wasn't that he didn't trust Miss Jenny (but after the mistletoe and the snowball fight, he ought to have good reason not to), but he pondered on how well she could keep a secret. He decided that he didn't want to tell her.

But, _honestly_. How difficult could it be to wrap such a small present?

Ichabod rubbed his eyes and glared at the Christmas paper, red with bright green, smiling Christmas trees on it.

He hadn't even tried tying the string yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously hate wrapping gifts, I had to wrap gifts today. xD


	23. December 23rd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to see the Christmas lights.

Ichabod had loved the little lights on strings ever since Abbie had decorated her own Christmas tree. No, actually, it was ever since he had seen a wondrous display in one of the stores. But this was different, because that home had to have a thousand lights, and a hundred displays, and everything was timed to cheerful Christmas music playing in the background.

It was too cold to go walking, so Abbie had offered to drive him to some of the best Christmas lights displays in town.

"It's not the best, but they usually do a nice display here."

"There must be thousands of them!" Ichabod replied, his breath fogging up the glass of the window. He smudged it away and leaned back slightly.

"No," Abbie laughed, "definitely not thousands, not a big enough house. But I like the ones that are all synchronised to music. The added element is fun."

Ichabod nodded. "Yes, Lieutenant, the added element is surely beautiful." His breath fogged up the glass again. He huffed and leaned back in his seat.

"Onto the next one, then?"

Ichabod situated his seatbelt from where it had been digging into his collarbone. "Yes, please."

"Oh, you want to stop for hot chocolate first? I realise the point isn't really there when we're in a warm car, but..." She shrugged. "It's cold out, so why not?"

"Ooh, yes, if it isn't too much trouble," Ichabod replied, warming his fingers against the heat, numb from where he had pressed them against the window. He had developed an antagonising fondness for hot chocolate, especially if it was the high quality kind from the shops. The instant was tasteful as well, just not as so. He had even been treated to traditional Italian style - a cup of chocolate. It had been delicious as well. He owed Abbie for teaching him of hot chocolate, for he had been sadly lacking.

He sniffed and rubbed his hands together as they pulled into the line.

Abbie frowned. "Are you cold?"

Ichabod shook his head. "Not at all. My nose is, however." He sniffed again.

"Did you have it pressed against the window?"

Ichabod paused. "... No."

Abbie chuckled, reaching over him to the glove compartment. "Blow your nose," she advised, handing him pieces of paper that were supposed to be napkins, which came with the fast food, although Ichabod thought that they were more akin to sandpaper than tissue.

"Thank you," he said, though, taking them without arguing. Beggars could not be choosers, he had learned.

"Uh huh. Same as always? Hot chocolate, double whip, fudge drizzle?"

"Please," Ichabod said with a smile.

 


	24. December 24th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve planning.

"How do I find the speaker on this infernal device?"

_"Crane, how long have you had this ‘infernal device’ now?"_

"I don't use the speaker enough, but I," Ichabod struggled to hold onto his phone while working on the pudding, "need my hands," he shifted the phone to his other ear, "to finish my pudding."

Abbie's laughter made Ichabod simultaneously huff in indignation and smile at the same time.

"Miss Mills, _please_."

Ten seconds later, she had explained speaker phone and he was able to put the phone on the cabinet and _still_ talk to the Lieutenant.

"Very good," he said, "how goes your cookie baking? I must confess that I don't find the taste of cranberries very pleasant."

_"I'm putting them in cookies, Crane, they won't taste bad. Anyway, I've got a batch in baking now, the others are cooking. I've got one more to go. How's the pudding?"_

"Going splendid, I should say," Ichabod said, rummaging for a spoon. "Do you have an idea of if Miss Jenny's food will be... how to say..."

_"Edible?"_

Ichabod sighed gently. "I didn't say that. But, theoretically, yes," he said after a pause.

 _"Yeah, she's good, Crane. She actually is buying a pre-made pie. One of the frozen ones, and_ no _, don't fret over it. They're_ really _good."_

Ichabod hummed. "I will defer to your judgment until I have the chance to taste it for myself."

Abbie laughed softly. _"You don't believe me. When you are going to acclimatize to the fact that most things are pre-made now? And that you have to pay taxes for them?"_

Ichabod glared towards the phone. "Do not even get me started on that, Lieutenant. Such a sales tax is absolutely-"

_"Son of a bitch, my cookies are burning! Call you back!"_

Like that, Ichabod was left to a dial tone ringing through the kitchen.

He laughed quietly to himself before turning back to the pudding.

 


	25. December 25th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Crane.  
> Merry Christmas, Abbie.

Ichabod stared into the mirror in the bathroom with turned down lips, trying to smooth the creases in his shirt.

"Crane?"

Ichabod looked up, all of a flutter despite his best intentions. "Just a moment!" He huffed out a breath and spun on his heel to stride out of the bathroom.

"So, 'sides from last Christmas, this is the first time I've been celebrating in..." Abbie trailed off as Ichabod stepped into the room. She whistled. "Wow. Crane. You... you cleaned up."

Ichabod smiled nervously. "The, uh, the tuxedo's a rental... Miss Jenny provided me with the money for it." He tugged at the jacket that he'd just slipped on. "... This is all so new to me," he admitted, shifting uncomfortably.

Abbie smiled. "You look great. A little unnecessary, it's just us, but you look really good. Actually, hang on a sec." She turned and strode from the cabin. "Back in a sec!"

Ichabod fumbled with the fiddly buttons on the shirt he was wearing, awaiting her return. He felt out of place in this suit, although it was incredibly more _in_ place than what he normally wore, for this century. He did have to admit there was refinement about these articles of clothing, though. There was a thing called a tie, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it. He didn't plan on asking right now, either.

"Here," Abbie said, letting herself back in, stomping snow from her boots. "I was gonna give this to you later, but it kind of matches you now." She held out a small box. "Merry Christmas."

Ichabod blinked and moved forward, taking it from her. He wondered if it had something to do with the stocking that she had gotten him last year, or if it were another tradition item. "Thank you," he said, popping the lid open.

It wasn't a traditional item at all. It was a pocket watch. It didn't appear to be new; quite the contrary, in fact. There were many years and a countless amount of time kept on the watch, but it was still ticking. Ichabod could feel it like a heartbeat pulsing beneath his fingers. He felt his breath leave him in a rush. He had never possessed such a thing of beauty.

"I didn't know what to get you. You're kind of impossible." Abbie shifted. "So, uh. Yeah. Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," Ichabod replied immediately, looking up. "I love it. In fact," he said, setting it aside with some reluctance, "I must reciprocate. These are for you," he said, picking up two of the packages he had on the table. "They were meant for the dinner, but, as it is Christmas nonetheless..." He held them out to her. "Perhaps open the larger one first."

Abbie raised her eyebrows, setting the small one aside. "Alright." She tore the paper away - it had still been a horrible wrapping job, but Ichabod had gotten better - to reveal a brand new copy of a book. Her favourite book, according to Miss Jenny. "Aw, Crane. Jenny told you about this, didn't she?"

Ichabod nodded. "It is a remastered edition. I confess that I don't know exactly what that means, but Miss Jenny seemed insistent that you would like it."

"I do. Thank you," Abbie said, setting it down. "I only got you one thing, Crane, you shouldn't have gotten me two."

"A book, however much entertainment or knowledge it may contain, does not add much monetary value."

"Money doesn't matter," Abbie said, although she tore the paper away on the second one eagerly. "All that matters is..." she trailed off again as she opened the small velvet box inside the wrapping paper. "... Oh my God."

Ichabod couldn't help but smile. He had picked out a necklace for her, a simple blue sapphire inset with something called zirconium. It wasn't diamond, but it looked like it. Sadly, he hadn't the money to get real diamond, but the sapphire was true. He had noticed that Miss Mills didn't wear much jewellery, but he had been stumped as to what to get her. If he was buying for another woman who was as important as the Lieutenant was, he would have naturally gravitated towards jewellery, anyway.

" _Crane_." She rounded on him. "This had to cost a fortune!"

"Not quite," he replied.

Abbie blinked at him for a second before looking back at the necklace. "It's beautiful. Simple and beautiful."

Ichabod ducked his head to hide his smile. "Merry Christmas, Abbie."

Abbie gaped at him for a minute before pulling the necklace from its box. "Help me put it on, will you?"

Ichabod nodded. "Of course." He gently pushed her hair aside and took the necklace from her, looping it around her neck to clasp it. Her hair was silky smooth against his fingers as he fixed it for her. "Let me see?"

Abbie turned around, fingering the setting.

"It is most stunning," Ichabod said truthfully. Seeing it on her now only reaffirmed that he had, indeed, made the right decision in gift-giving this year.

Nevertheless, he was surprised when the Lieutenant pulled him into an embrace seconds later. He hugged her back gently, warmth settled deep into his bones. The warmth of kinship at Christmas-time was indeed a very real concept. Ichabod felt nearly complete for the first time in ages.

"Thank you," Abbie whispered into his jacket.

Ichabod tightened his grip around her only infinitesimally. "You are most welcome, Miss Mills."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I wrote this before I got into my Forever frenzy, which I now find funny. Pocket watches. <3)
> 
> Well, it's been a wild and fluffy ride, and I thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos! They mean so much to me in this darkened time in the SH fandom. xD
> 
> I wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, and a very happy New Year as well. Thank you all!


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